


Regulation Haircut

by spinsters_grave



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Enrique Iglesias - Freeform, Gloria Estefan, Keith gets a little scared and Lance is a little mean about it, Lance (Voltron)-centric, allura gets a kick-ass haircut, another bonus scene, can't stop won't stop the bonus scenes, gas laws (no not gas laws) (but it's not a metaphor it's just mentioned), it's about hair how did you guess, my interpretation of the galaxy garrison, pitbull - Freeform, separate- back at it again with the bonus scenes, the ending scene is one of the best things i've written, this one is from personal experience a little bit, you probably already know what the bonus scene is about just by those names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinsters_grave/pseuds/spinsters_grave
Summary: Lance yearns for the universe, and keeps his friends close. When he gets the universe, he doesn't know what to do with it.





	

Military hair regulation at the Galaxy Garrison was encouraged, but not enforced. And haircuts cost thirty dollars, so. Only the really ‘into it’ kids got their hair regulation cut.

 

Most cadets cut their own hair or had a friend do it. Some let their hair grow out, especially the girls. ‘As long as you keep it up and out of your face’ was the unofficial rule everyone stuck to. Everyone said that it would become a real rule, except for the instructors were really into it and almost always had regulation haircut.

 

Being fifty miles away from any civilization (which was a street with five houses, a motel, and a mom and pops diner) and having limited access to wifi (one hour each evening for underclassmen, two hours for everyone else) meant that most cadets would find time to be with their friends and talk and have fun. 

 

The Galaxy Garrison was sneaky about making their cadets get along and create strong bonds. Even the anti-social cadets would spend time in the library and its three fiction books, and when you spend enough time around the same group of people, you would become a group of friendly people. It was a law of the universe.

 

Most cadets found that hair was an interesting thing to talk about. In its way, hair became a popular subculture to cadets in the Galaxy Garrison. Kids would scour Pinterest for day-to-day hairstyles, and when the Military Ball came up, professors allowed an extra hour of wifi for cadets to research hairstyles. 

 

It became common for cadets to braid their friend’s hair when they became stressed or upset. They found the sensation of hair running through their fingers calming. Their friends wore their braids as a symbol of friendship, and those braids became a sign showing that you loved someone and someone loved you back. Cadets would keep braids for days.

 

It was another unspoken rule that you didn’t fake a friendship braid. Braids like that were supposed to be something like  _ sacred, _ you don’t just  _ make it up. _

 

The first time Lance got a friendship braid, it was in the middle of the night when Hunk was having a nightmare and he couldn’t go back to sleep. “I saw their faces,” he stuttered as his hands shook through Lance’s hair. “My moms, and my sisters- their faces, and their- their dead eyes-”

 

Lance patted Hunk’s hand where it rested on his head. “It’s okay,” he whispered as soothingly as he could. “They’re okay. I promise. You can call them in the morning.”

 

Hunk took a deep, unsteady breath, then let it all out in one go. “Okay,” he croaked. “I will call them in the morning.”

 

“Before breakfast?” Lance prompted.

 

“Before breakfast,” Hunk confirmed.

 

“Good.” Lance leaned back into Hunk’s chest. “Keep playing with my hair, then, I know it feels nice for you and it for sure feels nice for me.”

 

Hunk smiled a little. Before they went back to bed, Lance had a couple small braids on the back of his head. Pigtails, Hunk called them. Lance kept them in for three days before he finally washed his greasy hair.

 

The first time Lance gave someone a friendship braid, it was right after a Basic Chemistry class, when he just  _ knew _ he had failed the quiz. In  _ Basic Chemistry, _ the one class that’s impossible to fail.

 

Hunk sat with him in their small room, patting his shoulder and telling him small comforts. “No one expects you to do perfectly on each and every little quiz,” he told him in the small and empty room. “You can’t expect yourself to do perfect- Anyone who tries to please everyone never pleases themself.”

 

Lance leaned into Hunk’s large and comfortable side. “I know,” he confided. “It’s just… Basic Chemistry. I studied for it, too. Gas laws. Who knew, right?” He chuckled weakly.

 

Lance reached up to twirl a lock of Hunk’s hair around his finger. “Gas laws. My mortal enemy.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then straightened up quickly. “Lean against the bed,” he commanded.

 

Hunk shrugged and complied. Lance quickly scurried to sit across Hunk’s shoulders and dug his fingers into Hunk’s thick hair. Hunk clucked for a second- he wasn’t the biggest fan of people touching his hair, he thought it was too greasy- but let Lance do what he wanted.

 

Growing up with three younger sisters meant that Lance knew every kind of braid. Dutch, French, fishtail, some other kinds that he didn’t even know the name for. Lance gave Hunk a braid in the middle of the back of his head that was supposed to be French, but he messed up and it turned into Dutch. 

 

Lance tsked and brushed out the hair, fishtailed it- it took longer, but Hunk didn’t have that much hair- then brushed it out again. Hunk closed his eyes and tilted his head back, relaxing his neck and sending them both into a state of timelessness and relaxation. Lance braided and brushed it out and braided and brushed it out, rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat, until they were startled awake by the dinner bell. 

 

Lance quickly tied off the braid he was working on, and he and Hunk ran off to the mess hall. It was beef stroganoff that night. 

 

The third member of Hunk and Lance’s team flunked out. It was the season- midterms. They were brutal, but Lance fought tooth and nail to stay in, and Hunk was naturally brilliant and talented enough to stay in and stay together.

 

So they got a new team member. Lance didn’t bother to learn her name, and she went to join the other kids in the library. She would come into classes with braids almost every other day. Lance noticed that her hair was long and voluminous, which must feel nice to run fingers through- Lance focused on the lecture again. The lesson wasn’t even relevant to what Lance wanted to learn- the History of Flight. If Lance had to hear about the Wright Brothers one more time…

 

Their teammate got demoted from their team. She didn’t say goodbye.

 

A Galaxy Garrison-funded mission was announced. It was supposed to push the edges of discovery of their universe- a visit to Pluto’s moon, Kerberos. Lance bought a poster of Kerberos when he visited his family in LA from their local bookstore. It had mostly educational nonsense on it, but Lance was insanely proud enough of the mission that his school, the Galaxy Garrison, was funding. He dreamed about going one day to far-distant planets himself one day. For some reason, when he woke up, he remembered a brief glimpse of white armor and a sense of unease from the whole encounter. 

 

Keith Kogane punched a commander. Of course it would be Keith- the boy didn’t have any friends, Lance had noticed, no one to tell him what was a good idea and what wasn’t. He never had a friendship braid when he came to class. No one would approach him in the hallway, either, when most of the cadets were socializing. He wouldn’t even go into the library often. 

 

Lance almost felt bad for Keith, until he remembered how stuck-up Keith was and how smart he needed everyone to think he was. There was a more senior officer that sometimes approached Keith, but that just made him seem like more or a snob. Like he didn’t think that even his superiors were good enough to socialize with. It made Lance’s blood boil.

 

Hunk got several angry friendship braids whenever Lance got his thoughts stuck on Keith. Not like friendship braids could be inherently bad- they were at their most basic a pure form of expressing love and unity between two people- but they could be angry. 

 

Dumb Keith, with his dumb hair and his dumb eyes and his dumb talent and his dumb ability and his dumb scores. Dumb, dumb, dumb. If Lance said ‘dumb’ one more time he was going to lose the dumb meaning of the dumb word- and too late, it’s gone. Dumb just became a series of letters that didn’t mean anything- dumbdumbdumb. Why was there a ‘b’ on the end of the word? It would make sense even if it wasn’t there. Dum. Dum dum dum. Dum Keith. Dum Galaxy Garrison. No, that didn’t help. It was the sound of the word that lost the meaning, too, eventually.

 

The friendship braid was nice. Hunk kept it in for a day, trying to wash it but eventually having to comb it out.

 

Keith Kogane left the same time he was booted out. Lance knew that there was a term for it- mutual something. Mutually assured destruction, knowing Keith. Lance was moved up to fighter class, and Hunk joined shortly after. They braided each other’s hair the day Hunk was announced to join fighter class.

 

The Kerberos Mission went missing. With Keith flunking and he and Hunk being promoted to fighter class, Lance had missed the launching of the mission, but he couldn’t miss anything else. This was terrible, ground shaking, world ending news- that pilot, Takashi Shirogane, was his hero. When the news reports yelled ‘Pilot Error’ at him, he stress-braided every single strand of Hunk’s hair. There was a braid inside a braid and fishtails and perfect Frenches and Dutches and just tiny, regular braids- one for every bad thought. Some were brushed out and done again, so some for two or even three bad thoughts- angry braids again.

 

Lance wondered what would happen now.

 

They got a new team member. Lance remembered their last one, the girl whose name he never bothered to learn. He shuddered.

 

“My name’s Lance,” he said to the kid. The kid was very young- probably not even an adult yet, just some kid who was insanely smart, smarter than the entirety of Harvard or some other Ivy League school. 

 

The kid looked at Lance’s outstretched hand, then took it hesitantly. “Pidge Gunderson,” he stated clearly. Lance could tell that he was lying then- it was too sincere to be true.

 

Lance just smiled and kept this Pidge’s secret. If he wanted to attend the Galaxy Garrison under an assumed name, then so be it. It was none of Lance’s business.

 

The three cadets grew closer. Even though Lance was the pilot and the de facto leader of the group, he had to acknowledge that Pidge and Hunk were very, very smart, and knew a little something about spacecraft, leading them to give their input whenever Lance was piloting the simulator. He let them- sometimes they were right, but most of the time, Lance was good at piloting. It was the reason he was at the Galaxy Garrison in the first place.

 

Commander Iverson would chew them out about not communicating well as a team, and how they needed to bond more, but he just didn’t get it. They did communicate well, they did bond- they were just salty whenever they did it. Pidge was a naturally very salty person, and Lance’s usually reserved (Hunk scoffed) saltiness was amplified with Pidge around. They were like soulmates, but salty. Saltmates.

 

Pidge wore his friendship braids proudly. “My brother told me about these things from when he was a cadet,” he said one evening.

 

“Your brother?” Lance asked with interest. “Maybe I could meet him! Is he still working here?”

 

Pidge hesitated, then sighed. Lance’s hands stilled in his floofy hair. “He’s gone,” Pidge confessed. “He was on the Kerberos Mission- the one with no survivors.”

 

Lance brushed out the braids he had been working on. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said quietly. 

 

Pidge let out a long, deep breath. “Just keep braiding, my pal,” he commanded Lance. Lance did.

 

Lance and Hunk had each other cut their hair. It was a time for the both of them to be with each other and to soak each other in. It was the first year that Pidge joined them.

 

Commander Iverson told them to bond, ‘Or else!” So Lance and Hunk snuck out after Lights Out (2200) and tried to get Pidge- but he left before Lance and Hunk could gather him up. They followed him out to the rooftop.

 

Lance acted like a little shit, as usual. Then an alien warship landed. The first thing Lance noticed when Pidge hacked into the cameras was the regulation haircut- then the pilot of the Kerberos Mission, Takashi Shirogane- then the regulation haircut again. 

 

Lance had a fascination with hair. (It stemmed from having three sisters and many girl cousins, who all insisted on learning braids from him. He was the best- he had to be.) He always noted who had their hair braided in class, and could determine who had braided it by the style- one cadet always waterfall braided long hair then pulled it loose, which looked beautiful- another cadet twirled two locks of hair together instead of braiding- and another cadet made the messiest regular braid ever but hid it by putting it into a bun.

 

So the pilot Shiro with the regulation haircut and the bleached bangs- when had that happened? How had he kept up regulation haircut in  _ space? _

 

Then Keith tried to one-up him, like always- was his hair longer? Then they crashed at Keith’s place in the middle of friggin nowhere after a crazy midnight car chase where they  _ drove off a cliff _ . Then lions. Then aliens. Then fighting in a war that should never have been the responsibility of anyone, much less a child like Pidge, or not even a twenty-year-old like him or Hunk, or a PTSD-ridden former prisoner like Shiro. 

 

Lance privately thought that Keith seemed right at home fighting aliens. He was aggressive, to say the least- Mister Punchy-Punchy McMulletMan. Shiro could keep up regulation haircut in  _ space _ for more than a  _ year, _ and dumb Keith lived in the dumb desert for some dumb amount of time and he grows a mullet. Sure, sure, Keith called it “Long hair, Lance, I didn’t have any scissors or a proper mirror to cut my hair, just a knife,” but Lance could see right through his dumb excuse. Mullets.

 

Hunk and Pidge and Lance and Allura and Shiro and Coran ran around the ship in friendship braids whenever someone became homesick or sad or lonely or tired or empty, or when they won a battle or fell in love with a friend again. Everyone jumped onto the bandwagon eagerly- Allura and Coran grasped the concept of the friendship braid quickly, and the braid even quicker, though Allura would sometimes just twist two locks of hair together, probably just to spite Lance. 

 

He taught everyone Dutch braids and French braids and fishtail braids and waterfall braids and how to make a perfect regular braid- but he would suddenly remember teaching his sisters those exact same techniques and choke up, barely able to finish the lesson. 

 

Lance wore a small braid given by Hunk almost constantly. Hunk was just a big ball of anxiety now that they were in space.

 

He ran his fingers through Lance’s hair. “It was the same dream,” he said. “My moms and my sisters faces covered in blood-”

 

Lance patted his friend's hand. “I promise you they’re okay,” he consoled. “Nothing’s going to happen to them on my watch. I know it’s hard without being able to contact them, but you’ll push through, am I right?”

 

Hunk took in an unsteady breath. “Yeah. I just- the same dream? For two straight years? I don’t know if it really means something, or if- if I’m just too scared…”

 

Lance leaned back into Hunk and twisted so that he could give Hunk a hug. “You’re allowed to be scared,” he declared. “We’re fighting aliens billions and billions of miles away from our home. If you’re not scared, then there’s something wrong going on in your head-hole, and since your head-hole is perfect, you’re scared but it’s  _ okay. _ ”

 

Hunk ran his fingers through Lance’s hair. “It’s okay,” he confirmed. “There’s nothing wrong with my perfect head-hole.”

 

They sat like that for another minute. Lance could feel Hunk chewing over something he wanted to say in his head.

 

“Are you ever afraid?” Hunk murmured.

 

“Terrified,” Lance answered. “Always.”

 

They fell asleep, two half-finished braids on both of their heads. Someone lay a blanket on them for when they woke up again.

 

Hunk and Shiro decided for the team that Keith needed to bond with his teammates. The two had noticed that Mr Punchy-Punchy McMullet-DumbMan never had a friendship braid or hung out with them or made an effort to be a part of the team. 

 

The whole group found Keith in the training room. Of course. The dumb boy can’t stop pushing himself. Lance privately thought that Keith couldn’t possibly be healthy, that he had to overtrain- it had happened to one of his older cousins, who had joined the military then overtrained so much that they sent him back. Maybe Lance could try that with Allura. Maybe that was a very bad idea.

 

Lance tried to not bother to pay attention, but whenever he spaced out, he focused on the attention-grabbing things. Shiro and Keith yelling, Allura and Pidge joining, Coran and Hunk worrying, people having emotions and trying to fix and hide that little fact about themselves.

 

Shiro was the one to storm out first, Hunk following him because that’s how Hunk was, kind and caring but  _ mad _ when someone was just too stubborn about being self-destructive. Pidge stormed out, and Lance followed, throwing his hands up in the air, trying to dispel the bad vibes he felt crowding around the room, pressing into the corners. Lance could almost see the anger and frustration clogging that castle’s air-conditioning.

 

Everyone sat in a circle in the first living room, braiding each others hair. Angry friendship braids, more common than ever. Lance noticed that everyone’s hair was growing out- months in space did that to you. He almost said something to Allura and Shiro, but something held him back- everyone else was so mad and upset that he didn’t want to bring a small problem into the mix. 

 

Hunk nudged his back. “Dude, just say something,” he whispered. It was dead silent. Everyone heard it.

 

Lance leaned his head back so far that he could look Hunk dead in the eye to give him the most unimpressed look he could summon. Allura huffed. “Well, Lance?” she asked in that imperious tone she only used when she was in a pissy mood. “Say something.”

 

Lance groaned and straightened up. “It’s nothing,” he said louder than he thought he would. “Just noticed that we’re all growing out our hair.”

 

Shiro absent-mindedly reached up to pat the tuft of bleached hair, his signature look. “Yes, even you, Shiro,” Lance said in the most unimpressed tone he could muster. “I was just wondering if there were any scissors on board, and Hunk and I could start cutting everyone’s hair. It’ll be like back home.” Lance’s voice got quieter (didn’t crack, thank god) when he said ‘home.’ It was a forbidden subject to say out loud- he figured that everyone was going through the same stages of homesickness and he didn’t need to bring his own bad feelings into theirs.

 

Allura hesitated; Lance could see her mouth the word ‘scissors,’ trying to figure it into Altean vocabulary. “Scissors… Yes, I believe we have something similar to those,” she said in a much kinder and patient tone. “Let me go get them.”

 

Allura bounded up, leaving Shiro grasping at her half-finished braid, trying to keep her there or trying to finish his braid. Lance did not know.

 

She came back with two objects that looked similar to scissors- similar enough that Lance and Hunk could figure them out quickly. They both snipped them at each other, acting like total fools until Shiro glared at them. The Dad Glare, the one thing that could stop anyone on the team from doing anything stupid (except maybe Pidge). Lance didn’t know where he picked up being so responsible from, especially if he could revert back to being the Mom (Dad?) Friend a day after escaping enemy alien captivity, losing an arm, and suffering some pretty terrible things, if his PTSD was anything to go by.

 

Basins filled with water were brought out. “Can’t cut hair right if it’s not wet,” Lance chided. “Unless you want it to be uneven and dumb.”

 

Hunk was amazing at giving people head massages. Allura went first (“It’s only my right,” she said, “Because I have to deal with you all being complete idiots and never following my orders every single day.” Shiro protested weakly), and since she was taking so long (so much hair!), Lance started another basin so he could get things moving along.

 

Shiro mcfreakin wanted his undercut intact, meaning shaving had to happen. Fun. Lance trimmed his little tuft and despaired when he didn’t see any black roots.

 

Coran wanted a centimeter (just a centimeter!) cut, and his moustache waxed. Yeah, right, like that’s going to mcfreakin happen. Hunk was put in charge of that situation.

 

Pidge wanted to just trim hers a little. “I’m trying to grow it out,” she confessed. “I want to look more like a girl again.” Lance did his best to comply, but there was no way he was properly trained in the art of hairstyling. He was a pilot. The most Lance ever got to cutting other people’s hair was when he would practice on Hunk and when one of his sisters decided that Lance was the perfect guinea pig for her hairdressing practice. She was older, though, so it wasn’t so bad.

 

When Allura  _ finally _ finished washing her hair, she wanted a bob cut. A bob cut. All of her hair, gone.  _ A bob cut. _ Everyone hushed and gathered around- this was a momentous occasion. The princess was going to get her princess hair chopped off.

 

A couple scissor swipes later, and silvery soft hair drifted down onto the floor in clumps and pieces. Hunk brought a mirror from somewhere, and Allura patted her hair. “It’s nice,” she said softly. “It’s like there’s a weight off of my head.”

 

Everyone (especially Lance, he did  _ not _ want to cut all that hair because he was sure he’d mess up) breathed a sigh of relief. The princess was happy, and looked amazing besides.

 

Lance offered to cut Hunk’s hair, and everyone else drifted away to chat amongst themselves. Lance ran his fingers through Hunk’s hair, thinking about why this man thought his hair was terrible when it was amazing. 

 

Hunk wanted a trim, like everyone else. Lance was surprised that no one chose the regulation haircut- but they were all trying to move away from the Galaxy Garrison, trying to discover themselves and express themselves without any rules. (If only space hair dye existed.)

 

Hunk offered to cut Lance’s hair. He thought, and thought a few minutes more, trying to decide whether or not he wanted regulation haircut like Shiro had (minus the tuft- maybe a smaller tuft- would that be copying?). He decided against it. Just a trim, just like everyone else. He liked his hair, and besides, there wasn’t much he could do with it. No fun styles, sometimes not even a decent braid.

 

Shiro left the room for a minute, dragging back Mr Punchy-Punchy McMulletMan himself. Keith didn’t want to be there- that much was obvious.

 

Everyone else’s mood kind of soured, or maybe that was just Lance. He turned back to letting Hunk cut his hair. 

 

Shiro corralled Keith over to Lance and Hunk. “I know you’re busy,” Shiro said, addressing Lance, “But this idiot needs a haircut. So would you mind?”

 

Lance hesitated, looking at Shiro, and then at Hunk. Hunk looked back into Lance’s eyes, silently communicating ‘you should do it’ with his eyes.

 

Lance turned back to Shiro and Keith, then swallowed past the dryness in his throat and nodded. “Yeah,” he rasped, “I’ll cut Keith’s hair.”

 

Lance didn’t see Hunk’s face, but he could tell Hunk was smiling in approval. When Hunk finished Lance’s hair, he patted him on the back and whispered, “Don’t be an ass, and try to maintain a good relationship.”

 

Lance swallowed past the dry spot in his throat again and made his way over to where Shiro and Keith were sitting. Keith looked like he wanted to bolt, and Shiro was probably giving him the same speech Hunk gave Lance- it boiled down to “don’t fuck it up.”

 

Lance stood by Shiro and Keith awkwardly. “So,” he commented, “The mullet is finally going to go.”

 

Keith gave one last betrayed look to Shiro, then turned to Lance and said, “I guess. I don’t care what you do specifically to my hair, just don’t shave it all off, please. Can we go?”

 

Lance gave Keith the most unimpressed look he could manage- you know, he drew his brows down and pressed his lips together and tilted his head down a little so that he looked up at Keith, but meanly and glaring. It seemed to work- Keith shuddered a little and let Lance lead him to the corner of the room.

 

There was still a basin set up, probably the work of Shiro and Allura. Lance made Keith sit in front of it and flipped his hair into the basin. Keith still looked like he was waiting for something to explode in his face. 

 

Lance grumbled under his breath and tried to get Keith to relax his shoulders. Not working, so Lance just started washing space shampoo through Keith’s hair. 

 

Lance pushed Keith’s head up and drew back the basin, trying to ignore Keith’s flinch and the way he quickly sat up, like he was trying to avoid Lance as much as he could.

 

“Lean back,” Lance hissed. He snipped the Altean scissor substitutes behind Keith’s head threateningly, but felt bad when he didn’t seem to get a reaction from Keith. Maybe he did- Keith’s back was to him.

 

Lance frowned and tried to get into a position where he could see Keith’s face, but now Keith was definitely avoiding him. Lance almost missed it- a small glimpse of Keith’s face, eyes blown wide in panic and fear and mouth set into a thin line.

 

_ Ohhhh shit, you done fucked up now. _

 

Lance gulped and gingerly set the scissors on the floor to free his hands. Keith still didn’t look back at Lance, but he didn’t leave either, which was a good sign.

 

“Keith?” Lance said nervously. “How you doin, bud?”

 

Keith didn’t say anything.

 

Lance took in a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm his heart- it was beating way too fast to be healthy. “Keith? Can you look at me?’

 

Keith took a shaky breath and turned so he could see Lance out of the corner or his eye. Lance breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. You know I’m not going to hurt you, right?”

 

Lance waited, then saw Keith’s shoulders move up an inch. Lance smiled, but it felt brittle and scared. “I won’t. I promise. Now look, Keith, I’m going to cut a couple inches off of your hair. Is that okay?”

 

Keith just didn’t respond, and honestly, Lance was getting a little impatient. Where does he get off, being moody and broody all the time? Lance set his mouth into a firm line and bent to pick up his scissors.

 

“Lean back,” Lance barked, then regretted. Don’t be mean to the person who’s scared shitless.

 

Keith sank lower in the chair so that his upper back was pressed against it, but he could still run if he nedded to. Lance tried not to take it personally.

 

“I’m going to take a couple inches off,” Lance began. Chattering while cutting hair was natural, normal. “Don’t panic. We’re going to start over here, ‘kay?”

 

Lance glided the scissors across the back of Keith’s neck and tried to ignore the way he jumped at the feeling of cold metal. What on earth had  _ happened _ to this kid to make him act this way?

 

“Okay,” Lance breathed. “‘Kay. I’m going to have to even out the base, right? Stay still.”

 

Keith was like a stone, so Lance didn’t know why he even bothered to tell Keith to stay still. Lance finished chopping off the dumb mullet as quickly as possible, trying to soothe Keith while doing so but really just making it worse. Lance wasn’t able to see Keith’s expression at all, but he imagined the same thin lips and wide eyes. Pure panic.

 

Lance clapped Keith on the shoulder and said, “Done.”

 

Keith slowly rose from the chair and said, “Thank you,” in the raspiest voice Lance had ever heard come out of a human mouth. The kid hadn’t talked for almost an hour, it was to be expected.

 

“No problem,” Lance said cheerfully, trying not to think about how that was the first thing Keith had said to him in front of no one else, and how he was already walking away, shoulders hunched and arms crossed.

 

Lance pbtpbtpbt’ed and sat down heavily in the chair Keith had just occupied.

 

Hunk came over and leaned on the back of Lance’s chair. “Bummer, man,” he said airily. “We totally didn’t listen in, but all of us have eyes. Rough break, buddy. Sorry.”

 

Lance sighed and leaned back into Hunk’s arms. “It’s fine,” he said as carelessly as possible, trying to match Hunk’s mood. “I’m more worried about Keith. Something really bad must have happened to him, don’t you think?”

 

Hunk nodded sagely. “Yeah. But that can’t have been fun for you, either. I noticed you gave him the reg cut, didn’t even charge thirty bucks. Why?”

 

Lance shrugged and looked blankly across the room at Pidge and Shiro cooing over Allura’s hair. “Human money is useless out here, that’s why. No one knows the conversion rate between American dollars and, I don’t know, Arusian sand coins. Geez.”

 

Hunk chuckled softly and patted Lance’s hair. Without any of them noticing, it had dried out and became a little frizzy. “Why’d you give Keith regulation haircut, then? You’re pretty good at it. Haircuts gonna be your thing when we get back?”

 

Lance pouted. “No. My thing when we get back is living with my parents and all of my siblings, and opening a boardwalk resturant on the beach. I’m not going to cut hair. It’s tedious and boring.”

 

Hunk contemplated something for a bit. “It’s a nice way to express someone or yourself creatively. Anyway, you’re avoiding the question. You didn’t even give Shiro reg cut. Why Keith?”

 

Lance pbtpbtpbt’ed again. “Oh, I don’t know, Hunk. I hated his mullet and I’m glad to see it go. This way, it won’t grow back quickly.”

 

Hunk hmmed. “Alright, I’ll take that. It looks decent on him- which is good, ‘cause that thing doesn’t look good on anybody.”

 

Lance laughed. “You’re right, it doesn’t. Shiro made it work, I guess.”

 

Shiro looked up at the mention of his name and shouted, “Hey,” across the room.

 

“Sorry,” Lance shouted back. “We’re not shit-talking you, promise.” He turned to Hunk. “We should join them, shouldn’t we?”

 

Hunk got off of the weight of his arms and pushed Lance’s chair forward a little bit. “Lead the way, my man.”

 

***

 

Lance woke up and stared at the poster of Kerberos above his bed. His brothers were sleeping soundly, and the world outside the window was cold and clear. Lance got up to close the window, but stopped to stare at the endless stars.

 

“One day,” he whispered to himself. “Look out, Galaxy Garrison. Here comes Lance McClain, Defender of the Universe.” 

 

 

 

The End

 

 

 

OR IS IT???

 

 

BONUS SCENE (K-Pop and Cuban Music)

 

Lance found out and decided to wait until he had the whole gang together to spill the beans, so-

 

“Keith listens to K-Pop,” Lance announced.

 

Keith slowly looked up from his bowl of food goo.  _ Bitch, _ he thought.

 

“Like, BTS and EXO and- I don’t know. He was playing it while he was training.” Lance continued to make fun of Keith, enjoying the delight on the other’s faces. 

 

Keith set his spoon down. “Bitch,” he whispered, “You’ve got a big storm coming.”

 

Lance preened.

 

“So you want to know what Lance listens to?” Keith asked, playing it cool. Conceal, don’t feel- oh, fuck it, he’s the literal embodiment of anger and rash decisions. 

 

“Lance listens to Latin Pop, specifically Cuban music,” Keith announced.

 

You had to be there to truely appreciate Lance’s face in that exact moment- equal parts betrayal, outrage, and shock. “You  _ bitch,” _ Lance whispered, horrified.

 

Keith smugly smiled. “Gloria Estefan. Pitbull.  _ Enrique Iglesias.” _

 

Lance groaned. “Stop. Stop this, Keith. And besides, Enrique is Latin Pop, not- not Cuban. He’s from Spain. So there.”

 

Keith grinned at him, not in a nice way, and picked up his spoon again. 

 

Lance narrowed his eyes. Keith, honey, you’ve got a big storm coming. “Keith listens to Black Pink  _ on repeat. _ Not the upbeat ones, either, no- the acoustic versions.”

 

Keith dropped his spoon into the goo. “You little peice of shit,” he said incredulously. “Wha- that was supposed to be  _ private, _ you asswipe!”

 

Lance grinned. “Not so hot now, are ya, hot-shot?”

 

Keith clenched his fists, silently fuming. “Alright, you know what? Are you really going to drag me for listening to music that’s defined me since I was  _ born? _ I don’t- I can’t even think of why you make fun of me for listening to acoustic versions of shit when you cry when you listen to Gloria Estefan.”

 

Lance’s face crumbled into outrage. Again. “Bitch!” he said, not trying to keep his voice down at all.

 

Hunk had long ago grown used to Lance’s antics. He kept poking at his food goo, trying to block out Lance and Keith’s voices. Pidge leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Is Lance always like this?”

 

Hunk raised one eyebrow and let out a world-weary sigh. “Yep.”

 

Pidge frowned and leaned back in her seat.

 

“You’ll get used to it,” Hunk said. “It’s always over trivial shit like this, too.” Hunk looked over at Shiro, who was watching Keith and Lance the same way Hunk was- bored and used to the same shit.

 

“So, Shiro,” Hunk started, raising the other eyebrow. “You used to this too?”

 

Shiro rolled his eyes at Keith and Lance and said, “Keith’s been like this since we met at the Garrison, he’s just really good at hiding it.”

 

Hunk and Shiro sighed in unison. Pidge looked at them, then back to Lance and Keith, who wouldn’t look at each other, then wondered why the defenders of the god damn universe had to be so dumb.

 

***

 

“A- _ ha!” _ Lance yelled, bursting into the training room where Keith was dueling with the bot. “You  _ are _ listening to K-Pop!”

 

Keith turned to look at Lance in confusin. “No,” he said.

 

Lance paused a second to let the music sink in. Then a second more, and- okay, so Keith wasn’t listening to any music. Lance’s face fell, and he apologized softly.

 

“S’alright,” Keith muttered. He blocked a swing from the gladiator and quickly put his attention fully back onto training.

 

***

 

“A- _ ha!” _ Lance yelled, bursting into Keith’s bedroom and ignoring Keith’s little yelp. “You  _ are _ listening to K-Pop!”

 

Keith started at Lance with his eyes blown wide, headphones dangling down the front of his shirt. “Yes,” he said. “Do you mind? I was changing.”

 

Lance took in Keith’s shirt, which was indeed well on its way to coming off of Keith’s chest. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Keith said, and they stared at each other awkwardly for a couple seconds. “So…”

 

Lance caught himself. “Right, right. Of course. Sorry.”

 

“S’alright,” Keith mumbled. “No big deal.”

 

Lance ducked out of Keith’s doorframe, but turned back at the last second to say, “You have a really nice chest.”

 

Then he ducked back out of the doorframe and walked a few paces, trying to keep his face straight.

 

Lance rounded a corner and melted into the wall, hoping it’d keep him on his feet. He put his head in his hands and dragged them down his face, pulling at his cheek fat.  _ Oh my godddd,  _ he thought,  _ I cannot believe I just did that. Oh my god. Oh, my godddd. _

 

***

 

“A- _ ha!” _ Keith yelled, bursting into Lance’s room. “You  _ are _ crying while listening to Gloria Estefan!”

 

Lance turned to look at Keith, tears pooling in his eyes.  _ “Yes,” _ he croaked. 

 

The End (for realsies this time)

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another bonus scene. Gosh 
> 
> Please leave a comment! This author is dying
> 
> The Galaxy Garrison regulation haircut is not military regulation haircut, it's more like high school wrestling team regulation haircut: Keep it close to your neck, behind your ears, and out of your eyes.
> 
> I wrote this and a few days later I read it again for editing and it gave me chills so I just wanted to share that little fact
> 
> (EDIT: April 10, 2018) HOLY MOLY you guys!! 1k hits! Thank you so much!! Someone please tell me who is reading this or who recommended it or SOMETHING so I can give you all great big hugs!!


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